The Truth About Thongs
Mapleville High
Stephanie Rowe
SBD Press
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Sneak Peek: How to Date a Bad Boy
Sneak Peek: Pedicures Don’t Like Dirt
Sneak Peek: Geeks Can Be Hot
Young Adult Novels By Stephanie Rowe
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright
The Truth About Thongs (a Mapleville High romance). Copyright © 2016 by Stephanie Rowe.
ISBN 10: 1-940968-35-6
ISBN 13: 9781940968353
Cover design © 2015 by Kelli Ann Morgan, Inspire Creative Services.
Previously released as Putting Boys on the Ledge © 2004 by HarperCollins.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, disseminated, or transmitted in any form or by any means or for any use, including recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author and/or the artist. The only exception is short excerpts or the cover image in reviews. Please be a leading force in respecting the right of authors and artists to protect their work. This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel or on the cover are either products of the author’s or artist's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or the artist. There are excerpts from other books by the author in the back of the book.
Chapter One
The only way to survive boys is to put them on the Ledge as often as possible.
Allie Morrison's older sister, Louisa, the resident expert on guys, was the one who told us about the Ledge.
See, the Ledge isn't a real place. It's an emotional place. It's about making boys suffer, about putting girls in control. Louisa knows all about the Ledge, and she's quite the expert on putting boys there. I think she said she had about forty-seven guys on the Ledge, at last count.
Oh, right. What's the Ledge and how do you put boys there?
Imagine a really tall skyscraper. Location is important, as I'll explain. We always have in mind this tall building on Storrow Drive. Storrow Drive is one of the main thoroughfares out of Boston, an access road to get to the highways. Lots of cars moving pretty fast. Impossible to cross on foot unless you're in the mood to end up as a pancake with tire tracks. Got the image?
Okay, you're back to imagining the building, strategically positioned along Storrow Drive. Say you're on the twentieth floor, and there's a little ledge sticking out from the building. That's where the boys are. I know, I told you it wasn't real. Bear with me.
How do I explain this...? Hmm... Okay. It's like this. You like a boy. He blows you off. You're feeling bummed out, because you like him and all. You're sort of thinking that maybe you should go out on that ledge and hide from the world. But if you do that, then a huge gust of wind with horrible timing would roar in and rip you off the ledge. Then you'd land on Storrow Drive and get run over by cars and your spleen would get dislodged from your body and sail over to the sidewalk, where someone would pick it up and rush off to the hospital with it for an organ transplant. So someone else gets your spleen while you're paper-thin and covered in tread marks. Why? Because you let some guy get to you.
Well, the Ledge isn't for girls. It's for boys. Instead of you feeling all bad about yourself because a boy blows you off, you're supposed to somehow get him to fall madly in love with you, and then you can ignore him, and then he's the one who gets all bummed and goes out onto the Ledge. Watch out, spleen!
And even if you like a boy and he likes you, you always have to keep him teetering close to the Ledge so he never treats you badly. As long as you're holding the Ledge over his head, you're in control.
I have never put a boy on the Ledge. Neither have my best friends, Frances Spinelli or Natalie Page. But Allie? She might only be fourteen like the rest of us, but she's learned a lot from her big sister, Louisa. Allie has put lots of boys on the Ledge. Of course, all she has to do is walk around in public and not smile at any boys, and they're all on the Ledge.
Allie is all sass and confidence. She takes no grief from boys, and they fall under her spell in about one second when they meet her. She has big boobs, curvy hips, and thick blond hair that never seems to get tangled. She could have a boyfriend in a millisecond, but she says she doesn't want to cramp her style by limiting herself to one boy, so she keeps them all on the Ledge for now. Which is fine with the rest of us. If Allie went off and got a boyfriend, it would seriously interfere with our girl time. We've been a foursome for twelve years, and it would suck if Allie ditched us for some guy.
Frances is a major brainiac, and rocks her glasses like nobody's business. She never wears makeup, and it doesn't matter because she's so striking. She has these long, thick eyelashes, gorgeous hair, and can converse brilliantly on any subject with anyone. She might be the most interesting person I've ever met. Did I mention her eyelashes? They're so long that they look fake, but she has no appreciation for them. Why? Because she would never waste her time dating. According to her, boys aren't worth the effort it takes to even realize they are alive. Or so she says. Allie, Natalie, and I don't believe her. We're all pretty sure she's lying, and we're on a mission to find out what she's hiding.
Natalie is a super jock, and has more guy friends than anyone I know, all of them athletes. She runs cross-country and track, and she's brilliantly fast. Her legs are solid muscle, and she has biceps that are seriously impressive. She works super hard on her running, making me feel like a lazy slug most of the time. She's more interested in improving her times than dating, but as I said, the guys on the team love her. She's going to have no problem putting guys out on the Ledge when she decides to get on it.
Then, there's me. Blueberry Waller. Could I get a worse name? My parents are bizarre nature-lovers who think that being a hippie is still cool. I mean, let's get real. Who names their daughter Blueberry? My parents, apparently. I go by Blue, but I still get weird looks. And Waller? What kind of last name is that? I don't have a middle name. The least my parents could have done was give me a decent middle name so I could scrap the Blue shtick and go by something decent. But they didn't.
So here I am. Blue Waller. Nothing exotic or fancy about me. I'm about a coordinated as a one-legged elephant, and my fashion sense would get me arrested if there were laws about it. I can talk extensively about how to use manure to make your organic vegetable garden thrive, but that's not exactly the kind of talk that makes people go "Wow, that girl is incredibly fascinating, and I need to suck her into my social circle." My hair is the color of mud, and it's as interesting as straw. When I meet new people, I usually just stare blankly at them, unable to think of a single compelling thing to say. So, yeah, that's me. Let's just say that the odds of me putting any boys on the Ledge are about the same as the odds of one of the animals on my parents' farm inventing the next smartphone.
So here we are. One month into our freshman year at Mapleville High, in the boring town of Mapleville, Massachusetts. Our first year at the high school.
And not one senior boy has noticed us.
Or junior
boy.
Or sophomore boy.
Okay, fine, no freshman guy either.
We haven't contributed anything to the population of the Ledge. No spleens have been rushed over to the hospital for emergency organ transplants.
High school has not lived up to expectations so far.
Louisa swears it'll get better, but that's Louisa. She's the kind of person who could turn a Saturday afternoon folding laundry with my little sister into a social event.
We're determined to follow in Louisa's footsteps. She's even said she might try to score us an invitation to a party.
Now, that would be cool.
In the meantime, I decided to try out for the school musical. Of course, I can't sing, but there's one non-singing part.
And when I was at tryouts I saw the guy that I knew could change my high school career forever.
It was a half hour after I got to tryouts that I saw him. Natalie was at cross-country practice, so she couldn't go with me. Allie and Frances attend a different school, so they couldn't try out, but they're my best friends, so they came along for moral support. Plus, since they go to a different school. They used to go to an all all-girl's middle school, but for high school, they'd both switched over to St. Mary's School, which is also all girls. Since they have no way to meet guys, they love any chance they get to hang out with me and Natalie at our school. They think it's so awesome to have boys wandering down the halls and stuff. They said they'd met a few cool girls at St. Mary's, some girls named Lily, Delilah, Erin, and Valerie, but of course, new friends can't compare to old ones, right? Plus, since Lily and the others also go to St. Mary's, it's not like hanging with them is going to bring any boys into their lives.
Anyway, we were sitting there in the back row, like we always do, because if you're in the back row you can keep an eye on everything, but no one is looking at you. Or if someone wants to look at you, he has to twist around in his chair, and then we'd totally see him.
Of course, if we were trying to be noticed, we'd probably want to sit closer to the front. Then he'd have to look at us all the time.
But this particular afternoon we were in stealth mode, assessing and stalking. Hence the back row.
Why were we in stealth mode? Because I hadn't really decided whether I had the courage to audition. Granted, I'd signed in when I first arrived, but there was a distinct possibility that when my name was called, I was going to pretend I didn't exist. Or hadn't heard. Or was in the bathroom. Regardless of my excuse, I probably wasn't going to respond.
But in case I wanted to, I'd put my name on the list.
There were quite a lot of people there, actually. Most of them seemed to be upperclassmen. I nudged Frances. "I think we're the only freshmen here."
"Shh. I'm trying to work." Frances had her pre-algebra book open on her lap, as usual. Frances was on scholarship at her school, and she was always working really hard to keep her grades up. "I have to finish this assignment first."
Fine. That was why I brought both of them with me, so that at least one of them would be paying enough attention to provide moral support. "Allie."
"What?" Allie was watching the stage, where some girl was singing a song about rainbows. She was actually pretty good.
"I think we should leave." I'd made my decision. There were too many kids trying out that seemed to know what they were doing. No need for me to make a fool of myself, as fun as that might be. Not.
Allie glanced at me. "Why?"
"Because." I didn't exactly want to admit to Allie that my knees were trembling. After all, Allie was all about self-confidence. You couldn't put boys on the Ledge without self-confidence, and, as I said earlier, Allie has handed out quite a few tickets to the Ledge. "Because I decided I don't want to be in the musical. It looks boring."
“Don't be intimidated by them. That girl isn't a very good singer."
Okay, fine. When your best friends have known you since you were two years old, you can't exactly hide much from them. Like the fact that you're way too scared to actually get onstage in front of a bunch of talented upperclassmen and read lines from a play. "You think she's not very good?"
"Not at all. She can't even hit the high notes, and she's off on her octaves." Granted, Allie was a very talented singer, but still. It made me feel better. Especially since I wasn't going to try out for a singing part anyway, so I wouldn't have to compare myself to her.
Then another girl got up onstage, and she was good. Plus she was beautiful. And she was older.
That did it. "I'm not doing this. No way. Maybe when I'm a sophomore. We're the only freshmen here." I tugged on Frances's book. "Pack up. We're leaving."
Frances grumbled, but as true friends do, she started packing up her books, while Allie ran to the bathroom in a preemptive strike in case the urge struck on the walk home. I was just bending over to pick up my backpack when I heard him call me.
His voice was like warm caramel melting through my body, making my legs wobble. I think the whole assembly hall became silent.
And when I looked on the stage, he was perfect. Beautiful. Dark hair that curled a little bit at the ends, jeans that fit his hips just right, a leather jacket hugging his wide shoulders, and eyes that penetrated my heart all the way across the room.
Oh, my gosh. This was what high school was all about.
"Ready?" Frances tugged at my arm, but I shook my head.
"Shh!" I waved her away. I had to hear this boy sing. I had to watch him. He was perfect. No doubt he was a senior. And a star. He'd be in movies by the time he was twenty-five.
I was vaguely aware of Allie returning, but I scooted slightly away from my friends so they wouldn't distract me.
He was amazing. When he finished the song, I clapped—for about one second, before Allie grabbed my hands. "No one else is clapping," she said in a hiss.
"But he was fabulous," I protested. He deserved to be cheered. He would change lives with that voice!
Allie didn't let go of my hands. "Remember the Ledge?"
"Uh-huh." I wasn't even listening to her. All I wanted to do was watch the boy. He was standing with his arms by his sides, talking to the director. He must be pretty tall, because the director barely came up to his shoulder.
"You can't put boys on the Ledge if they know you like them," Allie reminded me.
And mar that totally amazing face with tire tracks? And what would it do to his singing voice if he lost his spleen? "I don't want to put him on the Ledge."
Allie flicked me lightly on the side of the head. "Yes, you do. Trust me. Especially a guy as cute as that one. He needs double time on the Ledge."
Why would I want to turn him into a pancake on Storrow Drive? I wanted him curled up on the couch next to me, not covered in black tread marks. "No, I definitely don't want him on the Ledge."
Frances had folded her arms across her chest, which was not as big as Allie's, but definitely bigger than mine. She was inspecting the boy carefully. My boy. She was checking out the boy I'd noticed and staked my claim to. "Think he's a senior? He looks at least seventeen," she said.
"Oh..." Seventeen? A boy who was seventeen wouldn't be interested in a fourteen-year-old with small breasts and freckles.
The director turned away from the boy and peered at his notes. Then he looked up at the assembly hall. "Blue Waller, please."
Oh, my gosh. I grabbed Frances's arm. "Did he just say my name?"
Frances was grinning. "He sure did. I think he wants you to read with him."
"No way." I couldn't do that. Go up onstage? With him? And read? No way would my brain be a functioning unit that close to the most perfect boy I'd ever seen.
"Blue Waller? Are you here?" The director sounded a little annoyed now, and the boy shifted on the stage, peering into the assembly hall.
Looking for Blue Waller, no doubt.
That was me.
He was looking for me.
Holy cow. The most perfect boy I'd ever seen was looking for me.
"She's right here," Allie shouted, lifting my hand and waving it at the stage.
"Allie!" I yanked my hand out of her grasp, but not before the director nodded at me and ordered me to the stage.
We were friends no longer; I glared at Allie. "I was going to sneak out the back."
She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't put a boy on the Ledge if he doesn't even know you exist."
I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm not going up there."
"Really? Coulda fooled me." And then my former friend planted her hands on my lower back and began pushing me toward the stage, while Frances settled into her chair looking rather entertained and being absolutely no help whatsoever.
I leaned back against Allie and resisted with impressive force, so that she was making incredibly slow progress toward the stage. The director and Perfect Boy would grow tired of waiting long before I got there.
"Blue," she said quietly.
"What?" I felt a little smug. She was definitely about to give up shoving me toward the stage, crushed by the sheer force of my resistance.
"You look like an idiot right now, and that boy is totally watching you."
Against my will I looked up at the stage. Sure enough, Perfect Boy was staring right at me, a dopey freshman girl who was literally being pushed toward the stage by her friend. My humiliation was complete.
But it was too late to bail. Only thirty feet from the stage, I was definitely close enough that he could see my face. I had no choice but to pretend I was cool and sophisticated and hope that he was half-blind and hadn't been able to clearly see Allie shoving me toward him.
The Truth About Thongs (Mapleville High #1) Page 1
